One Night Stands
by dr. kitten
Summary: A selection of oneshots featuring our favorite RE characters. Now up: a random assortment of bizarre occurrences in Mercenaries mode.
1. Green Plus Red Equals Yellow?

Green Plus Red Equals Yellow?

**Hi, everyone. I really hope you enjoy this oneshot. It was inspired partly by a really funny picture I found (link is at the bottom of the story) and partly by my friend and fellow author xwittychickx. Reviews would be great. I can't promise more of these, but if enough people like it, I'll probably post a few more as they come to me. They might not all feature these same characters. I might mix it up a bit. Also, if you like BillyxRebecca, I wrote a much longer story called Blind, Deaf, and Dumb that might interest you. Anyway, thanks for reading, and please enjoy!  
**

Rebecca gritted her teeth against the searing pain eating its way through her right leg. She took another limping step, looking desperately around for any sign of her temporary partner, who seemed to have vanished into thin air. Exactly how a 6-foot, 165-pound man wearing a pair of broken handcuffs could disappear so entirely on a linear train was beyond her.

"Billy!" she yelled, breaking off to slump against the train wall, which rocked gently as she leaned against it. She stifled a groan of pain, clutching her wounded leg. Blood was soaking quickly through her green fatigue pants, forming the shape of a blossoming flower.

A sudden throb caused Rebecca to scream and lose her footing, sliding down the wall. She was prepared for the rough jolt of hitting the floor, but before it came, strong hands grabbed her underneath her arms and eased her down. She looked up into Billy Coen's dark eyes.

"What happened?" he asked, seriousness etched into his tone.

"I was investigating the crawlspace under the kitchen," she gasped. "There was one of those dog-things down there, and it bit me. I don't think I'm infected - I cleaned it out pretty good - but I need herbs to stop the bleeding. There were some growing in the conductor's cabin. Could you-"

"I'll be back in a minute," he said before she could even finish the question. He moved as if to stand up, but then paused for a moment and thrust his shotgun into her hands. "Keep yourself safe," he said, almost gently, and then he was gone before Rebecca could thank him.

She shook her head in confusion, her fingers tightening instinctively on the shotgun's trigger. The weapon was too big for someone her size - the reason that she had given it to Billy in the first place - but it would still kill any zombie that came along, certainly much more effectively than her standard-issue 9mm would have. It was pretty thoughtful of Billy to give it to her.

The man was an enigmatic puzzle that Rebecca couldn't solve. She felt as though she had most of the pieces within her grasp, but there was still some clue that eluded her. When she had first caught sight of him, beyond the killing end of the pistol he was pointing at her head, she had had no doubt that he was capable of the brutal murders that he had been convicted of.

But then, when he had faced down an unnamable menace in the dining room of the train, blowing away the leeches that covered her body with apparent ease, she'd had to wonder. It was only afterwards that she had noticed his hands shaking a little, as if he'd been under great strain to avoid shooting _her _during the rescue.

And now, the fact that he had gone back through the zombie-infested train with only his pistol and combat knife to find herbs so that she could fix up a wound that she got through negligence and lack of training - well, that said something about his character, didn't it. It said he was brave, reckless, and a man who, despite all else, would keep his word. He had said they were partners, at least until this all blew over, and apparently, he had meant it.

Heavy footsteps to her right made her jerk upright, spinning painfully to point the shotgun in the direction of the noise. A moment later, she lowered it with a sigh of relief. Billy had returned, far quicker than she had expected.

"Did you find the herbs?" she asked.

"Yeah," Billy said. He took his shotgun back and thrust something into her hand. Rebecca stared at it in disbelief. It was a crumbled little pile of leaves - exactly how mixed herbs ought to look.

Only there was a problem. Instead of the rich, dark, mahogany color that she was accustomed to, _these _herbs were the brilliant, shiny yellow of a rubber duck bath toy.

"Billy," she said quietly. "What is this?"

"Your herbs," he replied, giving her a look like he couldn't understand why she was asking.

"Did you mix them?"

He nodded. "Yeah. I didn't have enough space to carry both plants, so I thought I'd pull off some of the leaves and bring them back. They must have gotten squished together in my pocket somehow." After a moment, he added, "Is there a problem?"

"They're not supposed to look like this," Rebecca said flatly. "Why are they yellow? I can't eat this, Billy. I'd probably die."

Billy looked away and kind of grunted.

"How could you get this wrong?" Rebecca persisted, holding out the maligned herbs. "Everyone else I know can do it right, and they're not even medics. I mean-"

"Look." Billy's scowl had grown steadily deeper throughout her rant, and now he looked positively thunderous. "It doesn't matter how it happened. There are some more leaves on the damn plants. I'll just carry you down there and you can do it yourself. Okay?"

Rebecca agreed, and climbed awkwardly onto Billy's back. He locked his arms around her legs with a little more force than was necessary, and more or less stomped back down into the conductor's cabin. The young medic tried to hold back her giggling. This was definitely going to be a story to tell the others when she found them again. Billy Coen, the hardcore ex-Marine who could shoot and dodge like a pro and probably have any woman he wanted and - although Rebecca didn't know it yet - play the piano flawlessly, Billy Coen was incapable of something as simple as mixing herbs together. If the situation hadn't been so dire, Rebecca would never have stopped laughing.

Billy kicked open the door to the conductor's cabin and set her down next to the table that housed the herbs. Just as he had said, there were still some leaves left. Rebecca carefully picked just enough to make the anti-bleeding poultice and then held them up in front of Billy.

"Okay, watch carefully," she instructed. "After you see how I do it, I'm sure you won't have any problem." She pinched the leaves with her thumb and forefinger until they were slightly bruised, and then pressed them between her palms and rolled until she had a neat dark red pile. She put it in her mouth, chewed, and swallowed. It tasted kind of sharp, like mint, with a sweet aftertaste. She could feel the healing juices flow through her veins, and the flow of blood from her wounded leg ceased. She slapped a bandage on just for good measure, and then turned expectantly to Billy.

"There, you see. It's easy. Now you try."

Billy snatched the remaining leaves from the small bushes. Frowning in concentration, he pinched them just as Rebecca had done. Then he pressed his hands together as if he was praying and began to roll the leaves. Rebecca watched like a hawk to make sure he didn't differ the procedure any.

A small noise over by the window made her glance away quickly in alarm, but there was nothing there. She looked back just as Billy finished and inspected his handiwork.

Simultaneously, they both groaned. The herbs were the same yellow color as before. They smelled a little funny too, like burning rubber.

"How do you do it, Billy Coen?" Rebecca burst out. "You're impossible! Even a five-year-old wouldn't have so much trouble with something so rudimentary."

"Shut the hell up!" Billy snapped. "There's nothing wrong with the way I mix herbs. They're just a different color, that's all. They taste perfectly fine!" And before she could stop him, he popped the herbs into his mouth and swallowed them.

An interesting expression passed over his face, and he made a rather strained sound. Then he jumped up, hurried over to the window, and stuck his head out into the rain. Rebecca could hear him breathing heavily for a few moments before the train took a sharp curve, and he promptly threw up. He sounded so miserable that Rebecca actually felt a little sorry for him.

"Okay," Billy gasped once his heaving fit was over, and he had brought his head back inside. His face was a color of green that Rebecca had never quite seen before. "I give. From now on, you can mix the herbs."

**A/N - Am I the only one who wonders why Billy is the only character in RE history who is herbally challenged? What is wrong with the man? Oh, and here's the link below. Just remove all the spaces. **

http: .com /albums /mm58 /luc-y-7 /?action=view¤t;=1ce39f637e0755d6. png&newest=1


	2. Mercenary Madness

Mercenary Madness

**Eh ... so, this is what happens when I write fanfiction at 1:00 in the morning. This may be a little unorthodox, and considered weird. In case anyone was wondering, I made everyone deliberately out of character for the sake of amusement. I hope you all like it! This was NOT meant to be racist in any way ... just saying. As for the inspiration for the story ... well, mercs is great, but face it: it does have a few problems and discrepancies. I'm just poking fun at what already exists. Please let me know what you think, and - as always - thanks for reading. **

Chris Redfield unloaded a shotgun round from his Ithaca M37 straight into the chest of the man attacking him. As expected, his assailant flew back several feet, smashed into the side of a stall, and collapsed onto his face.

What the BSAA agent was _not _expecting, however, was to see said man - after a short pause - rise back up again, crack his neck, and come forward again with arms outstretched and mouth hungrily agape.

"What the hell?" Chris gasped, too startled to fire again. He could see the wounds from his shotgun pellets, so why was the man not dead? He was well aware that these _uroboros _things he was fighting were a lot different from the original Raccoon City infestation, but still … this was ridiculous.

He was brought out of alarmed stupor by the crack of a rifle firing. He felt a bullet whistle past his cheek, and saw the man in front of him fall. His body bubbled in the dirt for a few seconds before melting clean away.

Chris glanced behind him to see the slender form of his partner, Sheva Alomar. She rested her Dragunov SVD on his shoulder and gave him a nod. "How are you holding up?" she asked.

Chris checked his inventory. "I'm a little low on first aid sprays," he admitted. "I picked up an egg that I found laying on the ground a little while ago, but I'm not sure I want to eat it. It smells funny."

"I'll trade you the egg for this green herb spray," offered Sheva, never one to waste a potential meal. "By the way," she frowned, "exactly why are we here? I thought that our mission in Africa had to do with finding and eliminating the _uroboros _menace, not killing as many of my people as we can in five minutes. And isn't it a little … racist … that I'm the only African on the team?"

"There's Josh," Chris pointed out, gesturing to over his shoulder. Behind them, an African man in army fatigues was falling elbow first onto another man that, truthfully, looked like he was from south of the American border.

"Oh, right," Sheva said. "I was hoping to forget about him."

Just then, a short brown-haired girl with a tactical vest ran by them, squealing with fright and shooting flame spray in all directions. Chris ducked to avoid having his eyebrows burned off.

"What are you doing here, Rebecca?" he shouted. "You're not even part of the BSAA."

"I know!" she shrieked back. "Barry's here too! All I know is some woman in a helicopter dropped us off and told us to start killing. Can you - oh no!" She was grabbed by a female majini in a green dress and dragged through a window. Chris was about to suggest going after her when a loud noise to his left made him turn.

"Barry Sandwich!" roared a large man in a red vest as he punched an attacker with all his strength. "Burton Boot!" He slammed his foot into another man's head. "Gun Bash! Miranda Rights! Hurricane!"

"Hey, Barry," said Chris. Barry stopped his insane massacre for a minute to look over as his former S.T.A.R.S. comrade.

"Hey!" he exclaimed. "You're here too, buddy! Isn't this a blast?" He paused the conversation long enough to seize a majini by the collar and slam his forehead into its so hard that blood spurted everywhere. "Domestic Violence!" he bellowed.

"Er … isn't that one supposed to be called the "Headbutt?" Chris wondered aloud.

"Eh, that's too boring," Barry replied. "Rebecca renamed her ground kick 'The Schoolgirl Rejection'."

And before Chris could get another word in edgewise, he disappeared around a corner, still shouting out the names of his techniques like some martial arts master.

At Chris' side, Sheva gasped in shock. Turning to see what was the matter, the BSAA agent saw a well-built blonde man with sunglasses and a dark suit. Flanking him were two women: one blonde and one brown-haired, and both dressed rather inappropriately for the occasion. The blonde one was hobbling and holding her back.

"Wesker!" Chris hissed, at the same time that Sheva said, sounding puzzled, "Are they supposed to be here?"

"Damn you, Jose - I mean Mbuzu. I thought I told you to stay back at base!" Wesker growled, shooting one of the majini point-blank with his Smith & Wesson magnum. That didn't quite do the trick, so he finished up with a blow of his palm to the infected man's chest.

"Why are you here?" Chris shouted, firing a shotgun round at Wesker, who - having supernatural speed - dodged easily.

The blonde man didn't pay any attention. He was examining his palm quizzically. "Funny," he said. "I could have sworn that my Panther Fang was stronger back in Spain. I used to be able to send people flying about twenty feet, rather than five. Must be getting old."

"Don't ignore me!" Chris yelled. "I asked you a question! Why are you here? And why are those two women behind you? Jill! What have you done with Jill? Why is she hobbling around?"

"My back," Jill groaned. "I threw it out while trying to perform my Head Grab. I guess I just wasn't in as good of shape as I thought."

Excella began to speak, but tripped when her high heel broke and fell, striking her head on the corner of one of the stalls. She lay completely still. Chris stared at her for a moment in consternation, until Wesker spoke.

"Look," he said. "I'm not here to help you. Jill, Excella, and I are trying to earn enough points to unlock the special action figures of me."

"Oh, I … wait, what?"

"I mean that we're here to kill, obviously," Wesker said hastily. "I must get going. Come along, Jill, Excella."

Jill hobbled after him, groaning about her back. Excella didn't move.

"That was … weird," Chris stated blankly, staring after them. He seemed too dumbfounded to take any action.

A familiar voice, crackling with static, sounded out over the field. Josh had apparently commandeered the helicopter and was flying in circles over them, looking for a good place to land.

"You two work well together," he called down to Chris and Sheva. "When we get back, I'm buying you both a round."

"Excellent," Chris muttered. "I could use a good drink."


	3. If Life was a Game

If Life Was a Game

**Hey y'all, I'm back after a very long absence! I know I should be working on projects that actually matter (like my HUNK story that I have pathetically abandoned ...) but this came to mind instead. I was talking with some friends about the pros and cons of 'if life was like a video game'. Well, this is the result. I chose Revelations for the medium, since it is my new favorite thing ever. Why Raymond instead of a more mainstream character like Chris or Jill? Because Raymond and his hair of awesomeness kick ass! I don't expect many people to even read this, let alone enjoy it, but if you do either, a review is always appreciated with much appreciation. :)  
**

Raymond Vester was very confused. He had been sitting on the couch in his apartment one moment, eating Top Ramen and watching _Kung-fu Hustle_, and the next minute he was standing in a deserted room with a gun in his hands.

_What the hell? _he thought. _Do I have amnesia or something? What am I doing here? _

There was an odd sound above his head. It sounded like someone typing on a keyboard. Looking up, he saw text floating in the air. It read: **Get to the heliport**. And under that, **Stage 7, Chasm. **

_Weird_, thought Raymond. _Well, at least I know what to do. _Looking around, he realized that the surroundings were horribly familiar. Terregrigia. God, he had been here so many times in his nightmares.

As he approached the double doors, they swung open as if on a sensor. Just like the supermarket. _Cool, _thought Raymond. _They must have updated their technology since I was last here! _Then he realized how stupid that sounded. Who was 'they'? And wasn't the city supposed to be in ruins?

He proceeded down the staircase as a slow jog. Fire flickered behind glass windows, but curiously it emitted no heat or smoke. He was just about to step closer and investigate when a loud growl behind him caused him to turn – just in time to duck the swinging outstretched claw of a hunter. He noticed even through his shock that it had a little orange bar floating above its head.

His body reacted on pure instinct. Lifting his gun, he pulled the trigger. Every bullet in his clip blasted out at once, surprising the hunter and Raymond equally. _What's wrong with this gun? _He reloaded and fired again, with the same result. A lot of very high numbers cascaded out of the creature's body where his bullets hit. The orange bar disappeared as the hunter died.

More of them were coming now – a swarm of muscular green bodies hopping about like demented crickets, each with a decorative bar that moved with it. Raymond backed up and continued to fire. Within seconds, he had burned through every single round in his gun. The hunters had him backed into a corner and were slowly advancing with their arms raised to strike.

_Shit! I'm so dead! _

Then he noticed that his pockets felt really heavy. Inserting his hand, he discovered a bunch of loose rounds rolling around. _When did those get there? _he wondered. _I could have sworn they were empty before. _

Not wanted to question his stroke of good luck too much, he refilled his weapon and continued to blow away enemies. Before long, he was alone again, the vanquished hunters having melted inexplicably into the ground without leaving a trace.

Well, the heliport (if that was his destination) was located further up in the building. He crossed the bare expanse of the lobby, avoiding the eerie noiseless, heatless and smokeless fire, and ascended the stairs on the other side. But as he rounded the corner, a concealed hunter suddenly jumped out and swiped at him, knocking him flat on his back. The edges of his vision turned red, but Raymond felt no pain. Nor was he bleeding, although the claws had obviously scored him deeply. As he lay there, dazed, there was a flash of green and a rather pleasant sound, and his sight was restored to normal.

_My bulletproof vest must have saved me again, _he thought.

He killed the hunter and got into the elevator, where something even more puzzling happened. As he reached out to the panel, a large X appeared in the air, next to what looked like a magnifying glass. Raymond tried to reach past it, but he was unable to. Finally he touched the X, and the elevator started.

During the slow ride upwards, he glanced around, noting for the first time that on his right and slightly upwards, there was a map of the building. He appeared on it as a blue dot with a little cone spread outwards. Experimentally, he walked to the other side of the elevator. The dot moved.

_That's pretty handy, _he thought, impressed. _I wonder what makes that happen? Do I have some new gear or something? _

When the elevator reached the top floor, he got out and proceeded through the rooms, killing every hunter he encountered. Several of them, he noticed, had little icons beside their orange bar. These seemed to take longer to die, and they were either big and slow, or tiny and very fast.

There were a few side passages, but he ignored them, figuring that the sooner he reached the helipad, the sooner he would understand what was going on. Maybe someone was up here who would explain it all to him.

In one of the rooms two leafy green plants were growing in pots. They had X's over them, and Raymond curiously touched one. The plant vanished into thin air, and his pockets felt a bit heavier. But when he tried to touch the other, a red circle with a line through it appeared, along with the words _green herb. _Raymond tried a few more times and then gave up.

He was beginning to get the hang of this. Ammo filled his up his pockets when he killed hunters. That was pretty cool, even if it was mystic as hell. Somewhat more annoying were those strange X's that he seemed to be required to touch if he was to do anything. He also discovered that he had two other weapons at his disposal (which thankfully did not unleash all of their rounds in one fell swoop when he pressed the trigger) as well as a lot of different grenades. How and where he was carrying all of this stuff he could not tell, but it seemed to appear randomly in his hand when he required it.

Things were going pretty well until he reached the second elevator. Suddenly he was swarmed by hunters again, many of them very large. He retreated back down the hall and tried to open the shutter that he had squeezed under only moments before, but no X appeared and it obstinately refused to budge without one. Gritting his teeth, Raymond leveled his shotgun and prepared for a fight.

He held them off for several minutes. The shotgun blasts knocked them down, and he was able to finish them off with powerful rounds from his sniper rifle, or full bursts from his magnum. Occasionally, if there was a tight knot of several, he would chuck a grenade. These never seemed to damage him no matter how close to him the blast was.

But eventually he had to reload, and then they were on him. A jumping attack that he was not quick enough to dodge knocked him flat. No sooner had he jumped to his feet than a second hunter swiped at him, and he fell over again.

And he could not get up. Panicking (was something damaged? His legs? God forbid – his spine? What if he could never walk again!) he tried to shoot the hunters before they killed him, but his arms were like lead. Then he noticed the X in the air. Frantically he punched it, and kept punching it until the weight on his shoulders suddenly lifted and he was able to rise to his feet. He made quick work of the remaining hunters and continued.

The elevator was blocked off by chains and a padlock, but he must have had a key, because when he touched the stupid little X, they disintegrated to let him through.

Finally, after an excruciatingly long elevator ride, he emerged into the glorious sunset light on the roof. Two helicopters was waiting there, blades whirring. No one apparently was present to pilot them. Raymond wasn't worried. He had been trained to fly.

But as he crossed the empty space, the biggest hunter yet rose up out of the ground and came for him. Raymond reached into his pockets. Out of ammo. _Shit. _

He felt for a grenade. Empty. _Shit, shit!_

Well, it wasn't like he had to fight the thing. He could just get in the chopper and leave. Raymond ran forward, neatly dodged the attack, and … stopped dead. He could not move any further. There was an invisible wall separating him from his escape.

_Shitshitshit! _

As the hunter closed in for the kill, Raymond in desperation pulled out the last resource available to him: his combat knife. He slashed the blade across the creature's chest, and it reeled. Went down on one knee, it's absurdly tiny head bowed low as its shoulders heaved. There was an X. Raymond hit it as hard as he could.

The next sensation was indescribably bizarre. He began to kick high, but even though there was no strain on his muscles whatsoever, he was moving in slow motion. His foot creeped upwards towards the hunter's head. It was still stunned, but for how much longer?

Finally normal time kicked back in, and his toe connected with the hunter's jaw. It flew back, writhed, and vanished. The number 9999 hung in the air, and Raymond stared. His kick was more deadly than a full chamber from a high-powered magnum? What the hell?

Turning around, he saw that a slowly rotating golden disc was now hanging in the air between the helicopters. He moved cautiously towards it, not knowing what to expect. An X of course, what else? Touching it, Raymond was mildly surprised when he kicked again (this time at normal speed) and shattered the thing into pieces. The world when black around him.

_Oh God, _he thought. _I'm dying. Without even knowing what happened to me. Oh wait, I get it. Maybe this is a bad dream. Someone hit me with their car when I went out for groceries, and I'm in the hospital in a coma. I'm going to wake up soon and I'll be just fine. Right? _

Words and numbers infiltrated the blackness. Raymond stared.

**Accuracy 71%**

**Enemies routed 11**

**Damage 2882**

**Clear Time 00:18'22"**

**2010 BP**

**387 EXP **

_Okay, _Raymond thought. _Maybe this was some sort of simulation? In that case, I suppose I'm being graded on my performance. Well, I did pretty well (except for the few times I got hit). I should get a pretty high rank. _

A single capital letter swam into being. Raymond's eyes bulged and he threw down his gun in a fit of rage.

It was a C.


End file.
